


The Charm

by tea_petty



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Asra starts fearing for Jenna's health and does all he can to help her.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	The Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-petty
> 
> For asrasdarling featuring her Apprentice, Jenna.

He thought it had started a couple of months ago, though he very well could’ve been sleeping through some of it, so he couldn’t be sure.

What troubled him more was that if he hadn’t woken up that night and seen her, he might not have figured out something was up. Or more literally, that she was up. All night.

For a reason the arcana themselves probably couldn’t dictate, his eyes had opened with a suddenness unbecoming of a quiet, full-mooned night like that night. There was scarcely a breeze in the air or anything anywhere. The world itself seemed like it was in so deep a slumber, it wouldn’t stir or wake for anyone until the sun came down and roused it.

Asra was awake though, at first, he hadn’t known why. His sleeping was usually likened (most affectionately) to that of a sack of potatoes, his snoring, likened (less affectionately) to that of someone sawing lumber.

That still begged the question though – why wasn’t he doing those things now?

A foggy restlessness itched inside of him, and he tried carefully not to jostle the woman in bed next to him as he shifted onto his side. 

Her back was to him and he smiled; her shadowy silhouette cutting a marvelous figure in the moonlight as it filtered in through their window. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and nuzzle into her sleepy scent.

“What are you doing up?”

Jenna's voice was quiet but unmistakable. Asra hadn’t realized she was awake. He propped himself up onto an elbow and looked down at her to make sure. Peering over her shoulder, he could see that she was in fact awake. Her eyes open, staring glassily out the window. The dark, bruise-like shapes under her eyes made it apparent to him that this was not a rare occurrence.

“I could be asking the same of you,” he murmured, one hand sweeping loose tendrils of hair delicately from her neck to splay behind her on the pillow.

Jenna shrugged.

“Both of us are going to be dead on our feet tomorrow if we don’t get some more sleep.”

She shrugged again.

“Yeah, I guess.”

At this Asra felt a little off. He couldn’t quite place it – it was late (or rather, really, really early) and nothing was technically wrong besides the fact that they weren’t sleeping. Still though, even as he looked at Jenna, touched Jenna, talked to Jenna; he found himself searching for Jenna.

Her short reply felt like dust in the wind or a breadcrumb trail that led to nowhere. There wasn’t enough of her in them for her to still be _here_. Asra could see that so clearly now – at the time, he’d thought they’d both just been fatigued.

Asra lowered himself down into the pillows and moved closer to Jenna feeling her fit against his chest and pelvis like she belonged there. His knees tucked into the backs of hers, and he reached an arm around to hold her to him. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but it had been a fearful gesture.

“Shall I lay with you until you fall asleep?”

It was a little silly; they slept together every night, technically, he was _always_ laying with her until they fell asleep.

“But what about your sleep?”

He pressed a kiss to her neck. 

“I’ll sleep well knowing you are.”

After about an hour of him tracing gentle, ticklish patterns at her back, she shut her eyes. Her body was heavy and still enough that he hadn't thought twice about attending to his own need for sleep. 

After a few weeks of this happening, Asra realized she was faking it.

He still had trouble seeing that something was truly wrong at first; she wasn’t always so melancholic _._

Sometimes, there were times where she seemed cheery – bright, as Asra had fallen for her. When she tidied up, she’d hum under her breath. She’d press kisses in passing to his cheek. When she moved, it was like she floated. 

This buoyancy might last a few hours, or it would end at the bat of an eye; a broken dish, a rip in a dress, a misplaced book – any of these things could be the straw the broke the camel’s back.

Asra had figured she was just sensitive. That sometimes life’s little infractions allowed her to be so bold as to hurt her own feelings. Maybe he was just more comfortable at falling for this little lie than he was seeing her slip from him.

He couldn’t fool himself a moment longer the day he’d found her crouched over a broken pile of glass; the deep blue scattered among pools of brown tea, like continents. Jenna was sobbing, shaking so viciously that Asra had thought she’d hurt herself at first.

He’d gone to her immediately, fingers whispering over her skin in search of a wound he could fix.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

He didn’t want to upset her further, but he couldn’t hide the swell of panic in his voice.

“I- I-,” she broke into another round of sobs.

“Are you hurt? Talk to me.”

Her hands were shaking.

“I _broke_ it. It’s _broken_.”

Asra thought she was talking about herself for a moment.

“What?” he pressed. “What’s broken?”

With trembling fingers, Jenna went to pick up a fragment of the teacup that had shattered. Before the pads of her fingers could reach the sharp edges of the piece, Asra took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it.

“Oh, is that it?” relief leeched into his voice and he let out a little breathy chuckle. His free hand reached up to pass through the mess of white curls at his head. “The teacup’s broken? That’s alright.”

Jenna began to cry harder.

“No it’s not – I broke it. _Look_ at it.”

Asra didn’t understand this. His arms were around her, trying to comfort, though he wasn’t sure about what exactly. 

“It’s alright,” he soothed again, “it was an accident. We have other teacups. Or we can fix it. Hm?”

She was distraught. No matter what Asra had said, the shaking and crying just wouldn’t stop. In retrospect, he could’ve just fixed the damned cup.

Instead, he held her for a few hours, before carrying her to bed where he made her a new cup of tea. She slept for fourteen hours and never took a sip.

This had been tough, but perhaps what had been hardest to watch of all was how meals had changed for them.

Asra could remember a time where cooking (and eating) had been one of their favorite joint past times. He had many fond memories of them in Nopal, huddled over a modest cooking fire, the aroma of spices and herbs swirling in the air. She had always liked to be the taste tester. 

It had seemed so simple at the time, but Asra would’ve given almost anything for the opportunity to lift the wooden spoon to her lips again. These days, they didn’t do a ton of cooking together. If anything, Jenna seemed to avoid the kitchen as of late.

This didn’t stop Asra from cooking of course, though it was a more arduous process to get her to eat. Every day that passed, she seemed to grow thinner – which terrified him. 

When he’d offer to make her something, she’d claim she wasn’t hungry, so he’d assumed she’d eat when she felt ready. Now looking at her was nearly painful; her collarbone looked like a needle at her pale skin, threatening to poke through. Her hip bones jutted too far out from where there was once supple flesh. 

Asra could tell that she felt his eyes on her, and so she made a point to undress in private now. They hadn’t been intimate in months. Sometimes at night, he was so scared at how light she felt in his arms, that he’d stay awake and watch her, listening for the passage of air through her nose and mouth, studying the rise and fall of her chest.

Eventually, he just begged her to eat.

She would reluctantly oblige, and Asra, in a false swell of relief, believed that their problems were turning around – that the Jenna he knew and missed _achingly_ was returning to him.

He made her, her favorite dish. She ate half and couldn’t keep it down.

After a couple of months of this, Asra asked Jenna to meet him after dinner – that is, after he had dinner as she lay in bed. 

They sat at the little table where they usually performed card readings; it was a familiar place for the both of them, with pillows and woolen throws to make it even more comfortable. Really, that’s all Asra wanted, was to comfort Jenna. But pillows would not fix the hollowness in her eyes or patch the invisible wound in her heart.

Asra had to triage now and devise a proper way to help her; to ease her pain in the long term.

“My love,” he said. The endearment seemed to inspire some sort of muscle memory at his face; despite everything, he had to catch himself from smiling. “Jenna,” he started again. 

At the sound of her name she looked up at him, brown eyes wide though void of the curiosity she might’ve had before. Asra took her hands in his. They were cold; a pang went through his chest.

“I’m worried about you.”

She blinked at him but said nothing, so he went on.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t been sleeping or eating, and your moods-“

“What about my moods?” she asked sharply.

Asra crushed her hands gently between his as if trying to press a mutual understanding into them. He had never floundered with her like this before; they’d always worked off the same page. Asra suddenly felt like he was speaking in another language.

“You seem…sadder. Unhappy.” He flinched at the word. “I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, then why are we having this talk?”

“Because, as I said, I’m _worried_ about you. You’re different, you’ve changed; which maybe can happen. Okay, but what about insomnia? How about the fact that you can barely keep food down and you’re rail thin and I-“ His voice broke off. 

He’d retrieved her from death’s realm once, he never imagined he’d be worried about her wandering into it again.

“I want to help you. Talk to me, _please_.”

Jenna looked at him, her brow a little furrowed. Asra tried desperately to read her face but her eyes were empty; there was nothing for him there.

“Why can’t you let me do this for you?”

“This…” Jenna swallowed and pressed her hands into Asra’s. “This isn’t something you can just fix for me,” she said a little quietly. Her hands slipped from his and she left to return to bed.

From that evening on, it was less like two people lived there, and more like Asra was being haunted by the specter of his lover. He would catch glimpses of her throughout the day, he could sometimes hear a whisper of her voice, but to feel the heat at her cheeks and take her into his arms again was unfathomable.

What broke his heart more, was that she seemed to avoid him now. His meager attempt to help her had only driven her further away.

He remembered when she’d asked him through the fountain not to go anywhere else she couldn’t follow, but that was exactly what she was doing now.

In bed at night, he would wrap his arms around her thin frame and press his nose to her hair. She would pretend to be asleep.

‘ _This isn’t something you can help me with_.’

Asra was beginning to think she was right. 

He didn’t want to meddle again and risk making it worse – but wasn’t that what people did for those they loved? Meddled?

Jenna had told him herself, he couldn’t fix it. Then, was there something else he could?

Asra mulled this over for a couple of days. It took another half day to find the recipe and run to the market to get the ingredients. It took another three days exactly for the concoction to be prepared (and just their luck they’d conveniently been approaching the full moon anyway.)

The next morning, he confronted her as she was picking her way into the kitchen, movements small and quaint to avoid detection. When she’d realized Asra had been waiting for her, she stiffened, like a bristling cat.

“My love,” he said warmly – just as he had when things were normal. “I’ve made something for you.”

At once, Jenna looked suspicious. Asra had expected this after the last time he’d had something for her. This was where Asra had to be careful.

“I know you’ve been struggling with sleeping and...indigestion,” he tried to keep his voice light. “So I made you a draught to help.”

He held up a tiny crystal vial. The substance inside was iridescent like oil on water or the ocean in the Arcana Realm.

“Medicine?” Jenna eyed the vial, and Asra felt his heart leap in his chest when she took it in her own hands and turned it around to better inspect it.

“Yes – just for your sleeping and eating troubles, that’s all. I thought it might make you more comfortable.”

“How does it work?”

“You put three drops into a cup of tea, and drink it while you have your meal. That should ensure not only that you can keep it down okay, but it’ll make you sleepy afterward too.”

She looked seriously at him.

“No magic?”

“No magic. You can check it for yourself. It’s just an old family recipe from Mazelinka.”

Asra left the draught with her and made himself scarce for the rest of the evening. Though his nerves seemed to come alive and chew through him as he waited to see if she’d taken it, eventually, the moon was high enough in the sky that he felt secure in returning to their bed. When he did, her breathing came in deep, even lulls. When he wrapped his arms around her, she relaxed into him, her dead weight against his chest.

Oh, thank the Gods.

Things got better in baby steps from then on. Though Jenna was still quiet and withdrawn, she at least came to the kitchen to eat more regularly; Asra thought his chest might burst with how intensely his heart swelled every time he spotted her nibbling on a piece of bread.

If their relationship during the day was terse at best, at night, things felt almost normal. Emotionally, miles may have settled between them, but when she was asleep, her body remembered the comfort it used to seek in Asra; she always woke up curled against his chest.

Slowly but surely, she looked like she was getting stronger. More whole. Asra, still on edge, felt okay bringing up another ‘remedy’ he’d wanted to craft for her.

“It’s a charm,” he told her. “It targets fatigue and stress, so it might make your life easier.”

Again, Jenna had looked skeptical, though she did let her hand rest in Asra’s. He was pleased to feel that by now, it had regained some of its former plumpness.

“Magic, then?”

“Yes, but very little. Even our very own Dr. Devorak wouldn’t shy away from something as trivial as this.”

This had been enough to persuade Jenna, having been on the receiving end of Julian’s skepticism herself quite a few times. 

As if to prove to her just how simple and arbitrary the charm was, Asra had it in her hands the very next day. 

He had met Jenna at the kitchen table in the morning when he’d handed her the charm, watching as she turned it delicately around in her fingers. It was cute – something she could hang at her window, or wear as a pendant. Twine fashioned in a ring, with an ‘x’ in the middle. The entire thing was wrapped in a cloth dyed in Candywood pigment and smelled of jasmine.

He was hoping that these little qualities; specialty dye, a fragrant, herbal scent, would be enough to cover for the fact that while Asra had crafted the trinket himself, it was no more magical than the broom they swept with. 

“This is enough to target my…stress?”

Asra raised his eyebrows, a small smile of amusement working its way onto his face.

“At first you were worried I’d be using too much magic, but now you seem wholly unimpressed.”

Jenna looked at him.

“How does it work?”

“You can keep it on you; as a pendant, or tied to your belt, or in your bag.”

“That’s it?” She seemed surprised.

“That’s it. Being in its proximity should be sufficient in getting it to take hold.”

“How long do I wear it for?”

Asra tried to smile reassuringly, though his face felt like it was made of lead.

“Until you feel better.”

Contrary to how Asra had been after giving her the draught, he avoided checking on Jenna’s progress over the next couple of days. Whereas before, he’d been excited to see the fruits of his labors, here he dreaded the next step if his charm failed to work. 

What if it took too long to take hold? A watched pot never boiled and Asra felt that his eyes were constantly searching Jenna out in the tiny home they shared. Asra was afraid to breathe.

As it turned out though, Asra hadn’t needed to check on her; the effects were visible all on their own. When Asra woke up to open the shop one day, he found Jenna already up, dusting the shelves. 

He’d run a hand through his white hair, not at all certain of what the mood was in the room.

Noticing he’d come down, Jenna had said a soft ‘ _good morning’_ , before resuming her dusting.

He hadn’t seen her up before him since…well, he couldn’t exactly remember.

“Good morning,” he’d watched her. 

Her movements were focused and careful. This felt a little bit more like the Jenna he’d been missing.

When she accidentally bumped a trinket off of the shelf, she hadn’t even startled as it hit the ground. Just stooped to pick it up, though Asra got there first.

It was a little decorative basket they’d picked up in Nopal; too tiny to be useful, too cute to be deemed completely obsolete.

Asra held it out for her.

She peered at him, the barest hint of a smile working its way up to her mouth.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replied, and meant it with his whole heart.

Four words, that’s all they had shared, the tiny conversation morsel having been split between them fifty-fifty. 

It was everything. Asra had started to seriously consider the potentially magical qualities of the ‘charm’; had he discovered some new, untapped source of the arcane unknowingly? If it didn’t actually have medicinal qualities, then Asra was almost certain it served as a means of opening the lines of communication from whatever had clogged up the works, be it a tied tongue, a cat, or their own stubborn pride.

Asra’s theory was further supported a few days later when Jenna had pulled him aside and asked to talk to him in the kitchen.

This time, she had been waiting for him in the kitchen, steeping a cup of tea. He noticed it had been the one she dropped weeks ago – the only part he had been unable to fix was the chip notched into the lip of it.

Jenna traced it with her pinkie finger but looked otherwise contented.

Asra sat down across from her.

“What did you want to talk about?” 

He smiled, trying to keep his expression light. He thought this must be progress – she’d certainly hadn’t been arranging conversations like this when she was in her slump, though when Asra tried to remember a time when they hadn’t needed to ‘arrange’ conversations, a hollow ache rattled his chest.

Jenna took a deep breath, and the pit in Asra’s stomach opened up into a foreboding little chasm.

“I…wasn’t ready to talk about this before, but I think I might be now.”

He waited for her to continue, so she did.

“I know, I haven’t been well the past few…- lately.” She hesitated and swallowed. “My sleeping’s gotten better, and so has my eating, and I’m even feeling a little less…how I have been, but, I’m still not completely okay, and I think you know that too.”

Her voice rang with gentle seriousness. Asra was starting to get scared.

“That’s why I think…”

For a few moments Asra could hear his blood pounding in his ears. He could feel his heart beat so intensely he thought it was pulverizing everything else inside of him into a pulpy mess. From under the table, his fingers found the edge of his seat and clamped down into a tense, white-knuckled grip. 

Jenna took a deep breath and then Asra’s fingers were grazing her forearm. 

“Wait,” he said quickly and she looked up, eyebrows raised. “Before you-“ his voice broke. He swallowed and tried again. “Listen, whatever you need to get better, I’m here for you. But I still want to be _here_.”

Jenna blinked at him, a little surprised at his outburst. She shifted beneath his touch and grabbed his hand, sandwiching it between hers. God, she hadn’t touched him like that in months.

“I know that, and I’m glad you are. I was going to say, I’m ready to get help. Help that…maybe you can’t give me.”

Asra was still reeling from the feel of her hands around him. It was like feeling sunshine on his skin after a very long winter.

“But I can…stay beside you?”

Jenna smiled, and at once Asra felt found once more. 

“I’d have no one else other than you standing beside me.”

-

The first day Jenna was to meet with Dr. LaVair, it was sunny and golden, and even though they were following a path through Vesuvia that she’d never before taken, and even though, for once, it was Jenna going to address a problem with Asra flanking her, instead of fighting the problem at her side, things had started to feel more normal than they’d had in almost a year.

They were walking hand in hand, their bodies having been able to hop right back to their old intimate routines. No more could the earth forget how the rain kisses the ground, or how the rivers tunnel through valleys, their fingers couldn’t forget these old patterns.

It was peaceful; the slap of their sandals against the cobblestones and the scent of baking bread in the air. Jenna felt herself smile. Right now, she felt okay. Maybe even a little bit better than okay.

“You know,” she started, bumping her shoulder affectionately against Asra’s. “Despite how ‘simple’ it was to make, you never taught me about any destressing charm in our lessons – at least not that I can recall.”

His lips curved into a smile, his eyes narrowing cattishly.

“Really? That’s funny though because you gave me one.”

Jenna’s eyebrows raised. Had she? Had that been from before all the craziness with the Count? She wouldn’t have been able to replicate the spell now if he’d asked her to.

“Are you sure?”

“I never leave home without it; it’s how I’ll always know to return safe and sound.”

Asra released her hand for a moment and reached into one of his trouser’s pockets. Jenna watched as he rummaged around for a few moments before he pulled out a little silver locket. 

She remembered this; they had found it together in an antique shop, and though Asra had passed on it because he couldn’t imagine a use, Jenna had gone back later and surprised him with it.

“Oh,” she breathed, tentatively reaching out to trace her fingers over the intricate engravings embossed in the metal.

“And…”

Asra squeezed two fingers at the latch on the side, and the front popped open.

Jenna started at herself in miniature, the tiny, stenciled likeness of her smiling bashfully up from the pendant.

“You put a picture inside.”

“That’s right,” Asra gave it another fond look before snapping it shut and replacing the locket into his pocket. “Like I said; so I know to get home safe and sound.”

Her hand slipped into his once more and they continued walking.

She knew to come home safe and sound too, and that’s what they were doing now, as they forged ahead on the winding path.


End file.
